I’m an electrical engineer and for the longest time I was saying that electricity and electronics isn’t magic, but think about it.
You literally have to collect rare stones from remote locations, put them into specific formations to work. All of this gets written down in symbols which don’t make sense to the uninformed. It gets powered by energy which can not be seen in most cases.
Like what else do you want. What’s your standard for calling something magic.
“It doesn’t stop being magic just because you know how it works.”
Was looking for a book today when I saw these various animal books all on the same shelf and noticed their titles made a nice little impromptu poem about veterinary medicine
Nobody has mentioned this but I am so glad you did! I’ve never heard of spine poetry and I love the concept. I found these titles at a used bookstore that stacks books pretty freely so I will most definitely be scanning the spines for poetry every time I go
I thought I’d start off this blog with an old watercolour I did a few months ago! I especially love using the Soviet Series as a reference. the atmosphere is gorgeous
Silly sketches to learn how to draw these silly men
In unrelated fic news: did *yakety sax arrangement for guqin and xiao* get recced somewhere?? I’m suddenly getting a ton of kudos on this series. Not that I’m complaining, it’s just a bit unusual to get more kudos on an old work than one that’s currently in progress.
yakety sax arrangement
The title of this fic was very evocative, so I thought I would make the arrangement real. MuseScore did not have guqin and xiao so I made do with the shakuhachi and koto sounds. (I make no claims of stylistic accuracy or playability– just wanted to do a bit with the instrument sounds)
my youngest friend (he turned 1 a few weeks ago) has discovered the joy of blowing bubbles, or rather of other people blowing bubbles for him, and he has a delightful way of expressing his joy re: the sudden appearance of bubbles for no reason other than his amusement. I’ll be blowing bubbles for him with the little plastic wand, and he’ll reach out his grabby little hands for some and just twist his head around to watch others float away, and after a few bursts of bubbles he’ll get overwhelmed with the sheer joy of existing and seeing beautiful things and he’ll reach out as if to take the plastic bottle of bubble liquid from me, so I’ll twist the lid back on as tight as I possible can because I know that little dude would chug the whole thing if we let him, and then I’ll hand him the sealed container and he’ll swing it around with delight a few times before thrusting it back toward me or dropping it straight in my lap, so that I can continue to make more bubbles happen to him. and there’s just something really beautiful about this guy who has very few ways of expressing himself or communicating his thoughts finding a way to express that he loves this by taking the source of his joy only so he can hand it back to me over and over, to say this is good. good things happen when you have this. let’s please keep doing this.
a @danmei-action prompt for @chadsuke of yan xiaohan and fu shen cooking together :] thank you for participating <3
[ID: black and white digital fanart of yan xiaohan and fu shen from golden terrace. standing in front of a table with a large pot and tray, yan xiaohan holds a spoon towards fu shen, who’s smiling at him. yan xiaohan has his sleeves tied up, half of his hair tied back into a bun. fu shen wears a ponytail and a ribbon is tied around his forehead. end ID]
a support group for people with “unconventional” daemons. jeff with his flounder he has to carry everywhere in a huge tank. lois with her poison dart frog everyone is afraid to touch. sam with their elephant that’s the reason they can never go higher than two stories in most buildings.
I gotta know more about these people, though. Daemons are reflections of their Humans, and Pullman’s world building is such that most “typical folks,” the kind who are Not Protagonists, end up with some kind of cat or dog or perhaps a common bird.
When Lord Asriel walks into a room accompanied by a fucking Snow Leopard, that says things about him.
What the EVERLOVING FUCK does it mean to have an Elephant for a Daemon?
I gotta meet this character.
Lee Scoresby: …I was just talking about this fella I knew once, back in Texas. One “Mr. Ganges.” Yessir, like the holy river of India. He seemed to get a big kick out of referring to himself as such. He was from there originally, you see; came to Texas to make his fortune. He’d introduce himself with a big smile, all teeth, and a yell. “Mister Ganges!”
Now. Mr Ganges ran a network of Sundry Shops that specialized in Spices: made quite a fortune for himself selling coriander and pepper and such to frontiersmen and ranchers. He would laugh as he talked about arriving in Texas and promptly realizing that the key to his fortune lay in the place he had just left. He turned right back around and went all the way home to India! He visited old farmers he’d known growing up and loaded himself up with every spice he could carry in his wagon and made the long journey back to Texas for a second time.
By this time, he would say, he was beginning to realize his true talent: long range travel. We bonded a bit over that, arguing over techniques and tricks. He’d crossed the world 3 times just starting his business and it had been, frankly, easy. He seldom needed a map; easily passed through borders; and always managed to find friends.
Now, as I’ve been spinning this here yarn, I have been skipping over a detail that is rather large and important; an elephant in the room, if you’ll forgive the turn of phrase.
You see, Mr Ganges had a full-grown Elephant for a daemon. I’ve never seen anything like it, not before and not since. She had a pretty-sounding name, apparently after some Vedic goddess, but my tongue’d mangle it if I tried to repeat it, so I won’t. She didn’t talk much, but I watched Mr Ganges stop mid-sentence to listen to her one time so I reckon they were not unlike ole Hester and me. He often credited her with his success. “Elephants have perfect memory!” He would wink and tap his forehead knowingly. “I never forget a face!” As far as I saw, he never did.
ALT
ALT
ALT
ALT
ALT
